


Love for the Fairer Sex

by Pamspamela



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Gentleman Jack - Freeform, Period Piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pamspamela/pseuds/Pamspamela
Summary: Set during the 1800's(vaguely), Aziraphale finds herself terribly alone when Crowley settles down for a not so quick nap. But she finds companionship in the form of a human woman (that admittedly reminds her far more of Crowley then she'd like to admit)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, welcome to my first ever attempt at fanfic. I haven't written fiction in years, so this is my slow attempt to practice again. It was born out of a desire to have more f/f fic, and also because I'm gay for Gentleman Jack. It felt like a natural swap from the usual Oscar Wilde/Aziraphale stuff. I also moved the holy water conversation earlier in the century, since it helped set things up a bit.  
> Update- upped the rating from general to teen because I'm unsure how spicy it's gonna get in the later chapters, might up it more at a later date. Thank you for being understanding!

When Crowley had missed their first dinner together, Aziraphale thought nothing of it. After all, Crowley was a busy demon, who had much tempting to do. Hell loved to call her up at the last second for those vital temptations, to sweet talk the high class people that could shape the future with one misplaced letter, or careless remark. Aziraphale wasn’t too bothered by it all, she could take the time to reorganize the shop, and spend a nice night in. She sent a letter with the evening post, and prepared herself a pot of tea.

It took a couple of weeks after that fateful night, Aziraphale anxiously waiting as the mailman walked by her storefront, or jumping whenever an annoying customer entered, and every day a new worry popped up. What if Hell found out about the Arrangement? What if she had been suddenly discorporated (That paperwork would be a nightmare!)? Or perhaps one of the parlor summonings that were so popular finally worked, called Crowley to do their bidding? Too many questions for the poor angel. Finally, Aziraphale decided she would wait no longer. She bundled herself up with a tartan shawl, a matching scarf, and an ivory bonnet that protected her from the crisp autumn air, across London to Crowley’s flat.

She arrived only a few minutes later, knocking softly on the dark door as she brushed off the small drops of rain. Absently, Aziraphale realized she’d never been inside of the flat before. Would it be an invasion of privacy to walk in now? Of course, Crowley never seemed to have any issue letting herself into Aziraphale's bookstore, even when the angel wasn't home. After waiting in silence for another ten minutes fidgeting with the ribbon of her bonnet, Aziraphale quietly miracled it unlocked, and walked in, stepping on her own letter. “Crowley? Are you home?” She could sense the demon in the back, but heard no response.

Aziraphale walked further into the flat, noting the dismal energy here, the dark wallpaper making it feel as though she were in a cave. The only thing that seemed to show a person lived here was the lush room of greenery, exotic plants from across the world that seemed to shake in a soft breeze(Although later Aziraphale realised all the windows were closed). 

She headed towards the back where she sensed Crowley’s energy, a bit relieved to know the worst hadn’t happened. “Crowley, are you okay?...” She pushed the door open, to see the massive canopy bed with the curtains drawn closed. A smaller cave, protecting Crowley even more from the sunlight. Aziraphale gingerly drew back the curtain, to see her friend sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. Had she been asleep the whole time? She’d been known to sleep at night, but for weeks?... Was this the equivalent of a temper tantrum, after the fiasco of the holy water? So many questions, and the only person that could answer was laying in front of the angel, practically dead to the world.

Just as quietly as she entered the flat, she left. If Crowley wanted time away from Aziraphale, then she certainly wouldn’t wish to be a bother. She had books to read, and could find entertainment all by herself!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has managed herself a couple of years while Crowley slept. But somebody else that's tall, dark and handsome walks into the bookstore.

Aziraphale was incredibly, impossibly bored. Chasing customers away didn’t provide the same company that Crowley ever would. Maybe she should wake up Crowley, force her to face the problem. Certainly she couldn’t be this mad about the holy water! It was perfectly valid, not wanting her... The demon to kill herself. The Arrangement was rather convenient for both of them. Of course the Arrangement was becoming quite the hassle to tempt and bless while Crowley slept, but she feared the demon being recalled more. 

It was while she was sitting at her desk, cup of tea growing cold as she was lost in her longings, that a dark figure entered her shop. It took her a couple of moments to process the bell ringing, and even longer to recognize the lean figure. She glanced up and for a brief moment felt her heart race, as it seemed to be Crowley(although she would admit to no one that she was excited to see the demon). She hurried breathlessly to the front, and tried to mask her disappointment when it wasn’t, in fact, Crowley. The woman resembled Crowley in many ways, wearing all black as if in mourning, hair done up in tight curls with sharp features, leaning lazily on her cane as she pulled a book off the shelf. Curiously, she seemed to be wearing men’s clothing, her frock coat buttoned up all the way and collar neatly pressed. A top hat was tucked underneath her arm, and her eyes seemed intent studying the novel in one hand. Aziraphale flattened out the wrinkles in her skirt, and walked up to the woman “Ah, terribly sorry, that book isn’t for sale. Haven’t yet catalogued it, I’m afraid.” 

The woman turned to Aziraphale, and smiled politely. Her dark eyes raked over Aziraphale, taking in her features, in a way that gives Aziraphale a bit of shiver. It was rather like a snake, sizing up a mouse about to become the next meal. Her voice was silky smooth, with an intimate gentleness that gave Aziraphale a bit of a flutter in her stomach “That is a shame. I have been looking for a nicer copy of ‘Hamlet’...” Carefully, she replaced the book on the shelf, turning and gently taking Aziraphale’s hand. She pressed a soft kiss to the back, murmuring against it “Anne Lister, pleasure to meet you miss bookseller.”

Aziraphale could only stare, nobody had ever been this forward with her. Even the young men at the pub seemed to ignore her in favor of Crowley. Aziraphale drew the old ladies from the local church that were ignored by the young folks, that needed a bit of company to talk about their local quilting project. “It’s uh... Fell...” She felt her mouth go dry, as she scrambled to recall the first name she was giving this century. It was an E this time... E... El... “Eliza! Eliza Fell.” Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she pulled a hand away, rubbing them together “It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Lister.” 

Aziraphale could only stare as the woman smirked, aware the effect she was having. Her hand reached up to brush Aziraphale's shoulder, wiping off nonexistent dust. “So, Miss Fell.. You have a lovely shop here. I’m surprised I’ve never wandered in here before, I like to think myself as knowing where the best bookshops are in London.” She swayed past Aziraphale, a hand again brushing her side, and towards the modern medical texts that Aziraphale had just put in place a few weeks ago. She figured that she might as well start to purchase new books to pawn off on the most insistent customers, and the advancements were fascinating to read. Crowley seemed to favor those the most, it made sense this woman liked them too. “I keep myself up to date on the newest publications, especially in the medical sciences..” She traced a hand across the spines, almost as reverently as Aziraphale would also handle the books. A kindred spirit, perhaps...

“Yes, well I.. I rather tend to focus on more ah, specialized books. Older, more collectible pieces. Antiquities, first editions, only editions. Those sorts of tomes that are extraordinarily difficult to collect, all expensive. Especially Bibles, those are rather fun to find mis-printed versions, since humans are so obsessed with trying to preserve the purity of a text translated four times...” Aziraphale could feel herself start to babble, but she wanted to impress this woman. Miss Lister removed one book from the shelf, and flipped it open again. She snapped herself out of this headspace, to realize that this woman was a customer, and could possibly want to purchase something. “Are you looking for anything specific, Miss Lister? I do not possess many modern books but...” A logical part of her brain urged her to chase the woman away, to get her out of the shop and lock the door. But instead, she found herself drawing close, peeking over the shoulder at whatever page she had opened to.

“Oh no, this time I’m interested in something rare and beautiful.” She turned around, looking over Aziraphale again with that same hungry look as before, a hand reaching up to brush one of the white curls aside “Miss Fell, are you busy? I’m unfamiliar with Soho, and would like to tempt you to a spot of lunch, wherever you think is best.” Her hands were a bit cold as they she stroked along Aziraphale’s jaw, holding her chin up as she waited for an answer.

Again, that logical part of her brain said she should turn down this woman, and return to the tea that was surely cold by now. Crowley would certainly mock her for finding companionship with a human, their lives so disappointingly short. Yet Crowley was asleep right now, and her heart fluttered at the idea of sharing a lunch with somebody again. Maybe this could be a person she could share in the pleasure of food with, Crowley never seemed to appreciate the flame grilled brochette... “It would be my pleasure, allow me to fetch my shawl!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I hope you're enjoying this fic. I wanna thank the members of my discord server(M25) for helping support me with this! I'm pretty nervous about writing and putting it out there, so the positivity is incredibly encouraging.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to see Anne in action!

It wasn’t a betrayal, to take this Miss Lister to the places Crowley usually took her, right?

They headed to Wilton’s, where miracuously there was a table waiting for them. The waiter seemed a bit surprised as he approached the table, looking at the two women “Ah, Miss Fell, it has been a while since you’ve graced us! Will Lady Crowley not be joining us again today?” Aziraphale warmed under the collar of her dress and shook her head, looking distinctly not at Miss Lister across from her.

“No, no Thomas. Lady Crowley is ah... She’s still ill, resting herself. You know how feminine constitutions can be sometimes?” Even after thousands of years around the demon, Aziraphale still never could quite get a handle on lying. Of course most humans didn’t care enough to discern the truth, so he simply passed the two women a menu.

“I will be back in a few minutes, although I am sure you will want your usual Miss Fell. Please enjoy yourselves!”

Aziraphale was avoiding eye contact still as she looked over the menu she had memorized by now. She typically split the oysters here with Crowley(split being a generous term, in which Crowley would have one and then claim she’s full, leaving Aziraphale to have the rest of the plate), but the concept of ordering that without her brought a strange pang to her heart, as though the food lost its allure with the absence of the demon. So, just as diligently as she studied a text of prophecy, she studied the rest of this menu, deciding something new she hadn’t shared with Crowley.

Miss Lister cleared her throat across the table, and Aziraphale felt a foot nudge her leg which made her jump in her seat “I’m sorry Eliza, I need a bit more guidance, what do you usually order here?”

“Well the seafood is rather scrumptious, and their beef can be cooked to near divine perfection. In fact, I’m thinking I will order their Rhug estate beef today!” She folded the menu on the table, just in time for Thomas to walk back.

Aziraphale was about to open her mouth, when Miss Lister spoke over her “Ah, we’ll have Domaine de la Romanee-Conti from 1793. We’ll split a plate of the oysters to begin with, and I’ll have the duck confit while Miss Fell will be having the Rhug estate beef, cooked medium rare.” She folded up the menu, handing it to a stunned Thomas who simply nodded.

“Of course ma’am!” And scurried off again.

Aziraphale could stare over across the table at Miss Lister, who possessed a very smug grin that made Aziraphale’s heart cease beating, and cause that flutter in her stomach once more. “I do hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me. It’s simpler for him to hear it from one of us.” Aziraphale felt a bit indignant, after all Miss Lister had asked for Azirphale to show her this place! How could she have picked out that precisely?...That foot nudged just a little bit higher, lifting up Aziraphale’s skirt above the ankle, which immediately caused her to jerk back. Anne still maintained that smug grin, leaning back in her seat “So Thomas there mentioned a Lady Crowley... Is she a good friend of yours?” The way she said friends seemed to indicate that Miss Lister meant something else, but Aziraphale couldn’t quite discern what the other woman meant, so she responded as honestly as she knew how.

“Oh, well sort of, not really, not entirely no she isn’t. We just erm... Our businesses interact frequently, and so when we are in London at the same time we typically will get meals together!” She smiled, then shrugged a bit “We are not friends but we do find time for each other. When she is in London and can spare a meal or tea.” Which Miss Lister nodded, and her own smile grew bigger. The wine bottle was brought over, and Miss Lister slid her seat over to carefully pour Aziraphale a rather large, full glass, while giving herself a far more modest amount. Aziraphale was grateful for that, and downed a rather large portion of it in one go “So, Miss Lister--”

“Please, just Anne.” The glass was topped off almost immediately.

“Right, Anne. What sort of business does your husband manage that you are able to come unaccompanied to London?” 

The question caused a sour look to cross over Anne’s face, in which she indignantly lifted her chin up, and took a sip of wine before responding “I could never marry a man, under any circumstance. It would interfere with my travels. I’ve been based in Paris for the past couple of years, doing some medical studies, although I’ve been traveling all over the continent intermittently. I’ll be going to my Shibden Hall, my family’s estate up in Halifax, for a visit soon. I just figured I’d stop into London for a bit first.” She took another sip of the wine “I hope there is not a Mister Fell in the equation, either?”

Aziraphale had this response well rehearsed, although she was asked it far less frequently that she expected. Most of the people who wandered into her shop assumed she was simply a clerk. “Yes, my father was the original A.Z. Fell who owned the bookstore. He passed away not too long ago. My mother died long before that, and I was the only child.” She took a practiced breath, sipped the wine(which Anne really was spot on in guessing Aziraphale’s taste), then continued her lie “His brother is in America now, off doing something wild in Georgia,and I maintained claim over the shop. It’s not too hard, my father had some rather prosperous stocks I’m able to survive off of, as well as revenue from the store, so I’m not in any sort of want.” Another pause, another sip as Anne took all this information in. While on the spot lying didn’t typically work out in her favor, when you have twenty years to practice one it becomes easy to recite.

“Well Eliza, you are a rather independent woman, I can appreciate that.” Anne refilled Aziraphale’s glass again without asking, while still keeping her own curiously half-empty. Aziraphale couldn’t taste any sort of flaw with it, so she would easily consume Anne’s portion. “Rather brave of you to maintain that big, lonely bookshop all by yourself...” Anne didn’t pull away after that, instead letting her hand drift from the bottle to Aziraphale’s hand “I am sure it’s sometimes hard, without anybody else around?”

Oh, that couldn’t be more true. Crowley had been asleep for almost two decades, going on three, now, and the bookstore had never been quieter. “Yes, the past couple of years it has only been my books to keep me entertained, but I don’t mind.” She wiggled a bit in her seat, and leaned in towards Anne “I found this rather fascinating trail to perhaps recover the best book of prophecy out there, Agnes Nutter’s!” 

Anne looked a bit skeptical, but smiled nonetheless, amused by Aziraphale’s burst of energy “Oh, I don’t place much stock in those sorts of texts. I attend church when I can, I am sure most of the prophecies are behind us.” She took a measured sip of the wine, savoring the taste. “What other sorts of books are you interested in though, Eliza. Maintaining quite a shop means you are learned.”

How could Aziraphale not spill about her books? Crowley always seemed vaguely disinterested towards everything Aziraphale did. At least, she never once read a book Aziraphale had recommended, or always turned down a second forkful of cake. Always passively distant, disconnected.

Yet this woman in front of her seemed just as passionate about knowledge, alive and interested, and when the oysters arrived Ane ate more than her fair share. One bottle of fine red wine became two, and by the third Aziraphale was leaning with her head on Anne’s shoulder, with Anne carefully feeding her spoonfuls of a divine(or wicked?) chocolate mousse. Aziraphale realized that Anne had been talking to her the whole time, but she felt rather distant from all that. That fog made it rather difficult for her to do much more than nod and accept the offerings of dessert. Anne really was so kind, and so warm... Aziraphale wrapped her arms around Anne’s and felt the woman chuckle softly, raising a hand to gently pat Aziraphale’s neat curls. 

“Perhaps, Eliza...” Anne had leaned in close, barely a whisper against Aziraphale’s ears “We will go back to your shop, and you will give me a more personal tour... I am terribly interested in your private collections” A hand slid up to squeeze Aziraphale’s thigh, and she didn’t pull away this time. 

Instead, she rose with a grin, grabbing her bonnet and shawl with one hand, and Anne’s with the other. Anne helped her tie the ribbon underneath her chin once they exited the restaurant, this time with fingers stroking over Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale could feel herself sway with the warm alcohol coursing through her body, and could feel a very bad idea coming on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this was a long boy... I don't know how much more of Anne/Aziraphale I'll write though? Lemme know if you guys would want to see more, otherwise I was gonna move into the Crowley/Aziraphale meat and potatoes


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally works up the courage to go talk to Aziraphale, but of course she can't actually talk about her feelings like a normal person.

Carefully straightening herself out, curls pinned just right, Crowley walked over and knocked on the door of the bookstore. She heard shuffling inside, and then Aziraphale answered with a smile, warm and beaming. Her eyes were bright, and her white curls had been styled. “Anne you--” followed by a flurry of emotions the Crowley couldn’t quite figure out in Aziraphale. “C-Crowley! You’re awake.”

Crowley twitched slightly, before putting on a toothy grin, “Hello Aziraphale, glad to see you too!” She let just a hint of bitterness seep into her voice, as she brushed past the angel inside, not looking at her face. She sprawled herself in a rather unladylike fashion across the couch, pulling her glasses off to look around the shop, then finally to the angel, “You’ve kept up with the fashions rather nicely, haven’t you? Made yourself a somebody in the upper classes?” She sat up just a bit, folding her hands behind her head, “Or maybe you’ve started to associate with those a bit more controversial.” 

“Well, of sorts. I had to pick up some of the customs of the era, and it is suspicious to be an unmarried woman with means if you don’t make an effort.” Aziraphale headed towards the back, setting the tea kettle on the stove. Crowley started reaching behind herself to loosen her corset, just a bit. Aziraphale walked over and tutted softly, setting tea on the table and sitting next to Crowley’s feet, nudging her “Really, do you have to put your shoes on my new couch?”

Crowley rolled her eyes, but swung over to sit more like a regular person. “Ah, new couch? I thought you just got that other one when you opened the shop.” She picked up the tea cup, more to appreciate the warmth than anything else. “I like the old one. It was comfier.” Crowley had been there when Aziraphale was getting it made.

Aziraphale gently stroked the arm of the couch and smiled. “It was a gift, from a dear friend...” Crowley squeezed the teacup in her hands, stopping as she felt it crack. “I received it this last winter from her. She thought it would look nicer here than the old one.” Crowley set down the dripping tea cup, and gently rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

“You got anything harder, angel? Seems like I’m not ready to wake up all the way yet.”

“Crowley, it’s only three!” Aziraphale sipped the tea, and shook her head. “We could go for dinner tonight, Wilton’s.”

“Aw, c’mon. You shouldn’t have any problems with it.” Crowley jabbed her side just a bit harder than usual.

Aziraphale jerked away, and took another sip of tea. “Well, you can at least wait until I finish this, and then see how I feel. I haven’t had a chance to sit and enjoy my tea today, I was busy all morning.”

“Oh sure, plenty busy...” Crowley grumbled softly, standing up to browse her usual section.

“Ah, I moved the astronomy books! Those are all medical texts now. Did you know they’re using these fancy tubes to listen to hearts now? Marvelous! Anne was showing me how it worked and--”

“Anne? Who’s this Anne?” She kept her tone even as she casually started to rearrange the textbooks, just how Aziraphale hated. She already knew all about Anne. For a woman with a dark dirty secret, she had a horrible time hiding it.

“Oh, she’s my dear friend. She’s actually the one who gifted me the couch, as well as a couple other pieces too.” Crowley could hear the warmth drip into her voice, and could imagine the smile.

“Did she now? What other sorts of things did she gift you? Maybe she did a bit of taking too?” Crowley shoved the book back into the shelf, turning with a glare.

“You’re a bit tetchy now, aren’t you? I would expect being asleep for thirty years would make you less irritated.” She rose from the couch, and miracled the spilled tea away. “And yes, I have made some friends with you away! Anne is rather well connected with other sorts of people like me that enjoy reading, unlike you.” She moved towards the demon, hands folded. “You never had any sort of issue before when I have had associates in the past.”

“‘People like you’ that’s rich...” Crowley simply draped herself again over the couch once more, leaving her shoes on the cushion. “Just bring it over already.” She snapped and two glasses appeared on the table. 

Aziraphale stopped, and just stared down at the demon, as Crowley could feel all of the heavenly judgement coming from the angel, “What is your problem? You’re itching for a fight. Is this about the holy water again? I already told you I shan’t have you killing yourself!”

“Oh for Satan’s sake... Stop playing dumb.” Crowley rose quickly, grabbing Aziraphale and shoving her up against a shelf, lifting her up from the ground “Isn’t this what you like now?” Their noses almost touch as she pressed herself up against the angel.

“Crowley! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Crowley dropped her unceremoniously and shook her head, a bitter laugh as she walked away. “What in Heaven’s name has gotten into you?”

She went to the door, spinning around and hissing once at Aziraphale, then continuing out of the shop to her apartment, where she’d hopefully sleep for the rest of this stupid bloody century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow update! The updates won't be nearly as fast as they were at the start, because this is all I have written up to!  
> Also, special thanks this chapter to Kazeetie for betaing, helping me edit my tenses(because lord knows I have such a hard time with that ;;;)  
> I also super appreciate all the support all of you that have commented/given me kudos, since I'm very nervous to be writing again.


End file.
